You Are The Wall Crumbling
by eden alice
Summary: Tony coming undone.


You Are the Wall Crumbling

Maria's skin is hot with sweat, eyes half lidded with exhaustion and a blissful smile plays on her lips that make him both curious and a little jealous. There is something in her arms. Something so small, it squirms and Maria glances at it with awe.

Baby.

A baby.

All red and scrunched face. It (He) screams and Tony has never heard anything so incredible.

He is called Liam, Maria calls him Liam and he is the second coming.

Liam, why does it always come back to that man?

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Breath.

He stares at his striking wife sometimes. Silently tries to tell her that he knows she fucked her ex brother-in-law. That he did something about it and had the pasty bastard killed.

She never responds to his silent accusations or confessions. He does not know why that disappoints him. He is so angry and she sleeps so soundly, hair fanned around her pillow like liquid velvet.

He takes his own pillow still wet with tears and holds it tightly over her exquisite face.

For a long moment there is nothing and he wonders if time has frozen. Then she wakes panicked and desperate. She starts to struggle, he holds tighter. Her body thrashing like she is having a fit. Arms grope blindly towards him, his white knuckles. Her nails sting as they sink into his writs and hands. A terrible yelp and gasp muffled through the fabric.

He is stronger.

He is strong.

He will get over this. He will get over her. She will always be his.

He wants to protest when her struggle starts to weaken. He closes his eyes as she stills, flopping boneless onto the bed.

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. Shesgoneshesgonshesgoneshesgoneshesgone. Oh god.

He is alone in a dreadful silence.

Breath.

Her skin glistens under faint street light. He is secretly giddy at getting Carla Connor to agree to go for a walk with him, even if her shoes are incredibly impractical. Her eyes are bright and sharp.

She lets out a delightful cackle. He loves her laughter.

She's so alive and vivid, wine causing a warm blush on her cheeks and a lazily carefree smile.

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

She turns to him with a theatrical gasp before holding the lapels of his expensive suit.

"I don't believe you have Mr Gordon. Tell me, do you always risk saying those words first?"

He can't help but grin.

"Not for any random woman, too much risk."

Her roaming hands make their way around his neck. She leans forward and speaks against his lips.

"Well I suppose I'm flattered."

He takes a blissful moment to kiss those full, soft lips, breaking away as she starts to respond.

"Is there something you want to say in return?"

She snorts and skips away. He loves the way her hips sway.

Breath.

This is completely ridiculous, he thinks, and rude. What had happened to common decency? He sits on the couch as Liam pulls the strap of Carla's dress off her shoulder, kissing his way up her neck.

His wife breathes heavily as she tilts her head back, fingers expertly undoing the buttons of Liam's shirt as she straddles him. The ease on it all makes him think they have had sex on his living room floor before.

For some obscene reason the traitorous pair don't seem to be able to see or hear him. It really is very rude, especially as he has to take his anger out his wide screen television because what else can he do?

Electrical sparks glow burnt orange as he smashes the screen. They fall around the lovers like shooting stars and Carla's hand disappears into Liam's trousers.

He is so fucking angry.

But he does not look away. He suspects it would be pointless, the action tattooed into his retina for all eternity.

He blinks just for a second. His wife is behind his eyelids, rainbow coloured and biting her lip in ecstasy. Theory proved positive.

He opens them again and time has skipped with his heartbeat. Disregarded clothes pile around them like an ocean of fabric. Liam's head is buried between those beautiful breasts he had always loved. His wife grinds her hips down onto Liam's and makes the other man grown.

His is ashamed to feel his own cock twitch even through the red haze of anger.

He does not want to look away because oh god, ohgodohfuckthiscantbehappeningfuckheissofuckingturnedon, he still wants her even like this.

Three sets of ragged breathing and he comes just before they do.

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Breath.

There is a sharp elbow in his side as Maria reaches over him determined to reach the bowl (bucket) filled with chocolate resting vicariously on the arm of the sofa.

"You said you didn't want any when I offered."

He grumbles playfully. Her hair tickles his nose.

She pulls herself up making a triumphant little noise, a fist full of chocolate buttons.

"Well a girls allowed to change her mind."

She settles back down against his shoulder happily eating her prize.

He feels…nice, comfortable. Should atonement involve snacks?

There is something a little scary and a little fascinating about watching Tyra Banks demonstrate how to smile with your eyes to a bunch of star struck, skinny, young girls.

For a moment he forgets.

Then there is a wail from the crib in the other room, Maria's (his, theirs) son calling for his next feed. Maria yawns and stretches before she goes to stand.

He is quicker to his feet.

"Let me go."

A grateful smile passes over her lips.

"Aww, tar Tone."

The baby can lift his own head now (he can only call it baby or Junior in his head). It gazes at him with inquisitive eyes, eyes he wishes were like it's mother,

Breath.

He wakes from a nightmare to begin another. A familiar slim man stands at the bottom of his bed, skin pale beyond pasty but hair still as dark as night.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here!"

He is startled and cannot cover the wavering note of fear in his voice.

The man stares with eyes harder than he ever remembered seeing while he lived.

"I'm the mother fucking ghost of Christmas past."

Breath.

Inhale. Hold…Inhale. Hold. Release.

He's heart tightens when she comes back to him.

He is home.

He does not care about the glistening piece of deadly metal held tightly in her slender hand or the finality in her eyes.

She came home.

She came back to him.

He appreciates her new hairstyle; a rich brown (he will have to update from the glistening red from his daydreams) and a heavy fringe highlight her stunning bone structure.

He thinks he tells her it looks great but he can't hear his own voice over the buzz of happiness in his ears.

He watches her lips to make out her words.

"I meant it when I said I could never forgive you."

His blood is singing at the sight of her. He moves to embrace her; he can feel her name leave his lips for the rumble it causes in his chest.

Home. Carla. Home.

She sinks easily into his waiting arms. He has forgotten how good she smells.

Home.

The gun barrel is heavy and cold through his shirt. She holds it against his heart and looks him straight in the eye.

Home.

He flinches at the sound of a gunshot before he notices the pain. The noise causing the world to rush back to him like the waves upon the sand. He's knees begin to give way but Carla is still crushed to his chest and supporting his larger weight. She's still staring at him.

Home.

There is so much blood, hot and sticky, making his clothes slick. He has gotten blood all over his beautiful wife. There is a shiny wet smudge against her cheek. No. No blood should mar her perfection.

With his last strength he tries to push her away. They both stumble to the floor, entangled. He can not focus on her any more as his vision starts to blacken.

Home.

Breath.

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Home.

He sits in the silent flat, wondering when even the tap stopped dripping.

He wishes he had kept some of Carla's belongings or that he could love Maria.

A bottle of Jack Daniels can never be enough.

He does not think he can survive without her (Carla, Carla, always Carla). He is not sure he wants to.

He wants to pant, he wants to scream and cry but there is no one around to hear or help. So he rocks back and forth, concentrating on breathing.

Inhale. Hold. Release.

Breath.

Help.


End file.
